Ringo Starr turns seventy today. And he's still active. Ringo (you can't call him Starr) is bringing his All-Starr Band on tour yet again this year, and he's playing Radio City Music Hall tonight. Sadly, I can't make it.
How do you account for the former Beatle's longevity? It could simply be that Ringo doesn't take himself too seriously, and he's always being underestimated. He's used these qualities to his advantage throughout his career. In the Beatles, he served as the group's Everyman, the average bloke holding together three rock musicians of extraordinary talent with his steady, industrious drumming. Although not a virtuoso, he was a solid drummer for the group, but because he wasn't technically superior, he's usually left out of the lists of great rock drummers, the most thoughtful of which would include Charlie Watts, Keith Moon, John Bonham, Creedence's Doug Clifford, and Neil Peart (and as a Family fan, I would throw in Rob Townsend, who, incidentally celebrates his 63rd birthday today). But Ringo should be there too. His stick work on "Rain" and "Strawberry Fields Forever" should be enough reason.
Ringo also gained notoriety for his plain, deadpan singing, which allowed him to turn slight songs like "I Wanna Be You Man" into masterpieces and add extra charm to the likes of "Yellow Submarine." And only someone with the whimsical wonder of Ringo Starr could have written a wonderful tune like "Octopus's Garden." But during the sixties,it was understood that a little Ringo went a long way. Wen the Beatles broke up in 1970, the question was obvious; how, how, could Ringo possibly make it as a solo artist?
Very well, actually. Ringo himself asked this question, and he made no secret of his desire for the Beatles to reconcile. preferring to be in a band than on his own. But despite a few bumps - and a long dry spell in the 1980s, when he recorded very little and battled alcoholism - he developed a respectable solo career for himself. His first solo album, Sentimental Journey, was a collection of Tin Pan Alley standards his mother used to sign at the local pub in Liverpool with her friends, and wit ha little help from his friends - each track on Sentimental Journey had a different arranger - he came through with a record noted for its honesty and Ringo's own love for the songs. Always a country and western fan, Ringo followed up with Beaucoups of Blues, an album of original songs supplied by producer Pete Drake, who got a little help from his friends, Nashville songwriters such as Sorells Packard and Chuck Howard. Ringo had already found a nice little sideline as an actor, his lack of pretentiousness making him an enjoyable screen presence. All he had to do was act naturally.
Ringo's biggest successes started with two singles he wrote himself, 1971's "It Don't Come Easy" and 1972's infectious "Back Off Boogaloo," both produced by George Harrison. The straightforward lyrics of the former song and the jokey atmosphere of the latter ("Back Off Boogaloo" was inspired by a saying used liberally by T-Rex frontman Mark Bolan) made both songs huge hits, and when Ringo teamed up with producer Richard Perry to record the albums Ringo (1973) and Goodnight Vienna (1974) he had truly found his voice as a singer and as an entertainer. Unlike the lofty ambitions of his former bandmates in their music - John Lennon's activism, Paul McCartney's symphonic pop, George Harrison's spiritual pursuits - Ringo only wanted to please people and make them smile.
By the late seventies, though, newer, younger acts had taken over the charts, and Ringo was affected by this as much as any other veteran rock and roller. Maybe even more so - Atlantic Records dropped him when his 1977 album Ringo the 4th barely made it onto the charts (at number 199), and he was soon exasperated by the whole record business. In the past twenty years, though, Ringo has re-invigorated himself, reveling in his own showmanship, and quietly putting out new albums that have registered with the small but loyal audience that buys them. With producers such as Mark Hudson and Dave Stewart behind them, some say they may be his best work yet. And he's carried that joy and fun in his All-Starr Band concerts, one of which this blogger saw at an outdoor venue in New Jersey in the summer of 1992. (The remnants of Hurricane Andrew got everyone wet with rain, but no one cared. Everyone was too busy having a good time.)
My mother once said that Ringo is the only "normal" Beatle. By that, she meant that Ringo is the only Beatle who's like the rest of us. He doesn't think he's an Important Artist. He doesn't put on airs. He's never had reason to find himself; he knows who he is. He's probably the only Beatle who could blend in at a British pub singalong or at an American barbecue. He's the Beatle you'd rather have a lager with. Heck, he's the only Beatle who's never been in a drug bust. He's the only Beatle to put out a Christmas album. (Which is ironic - before 1999, when his I Wanna Be Santa Claus album, produced by Mark Hudson, was released, he was the only Beatle who hadn't yet put out a Christmas record; the others had put out singles.) He's always been an ordinary average guy, and his bewilderment at his own success is what's made him so popular and resilient. He is, to be blunt, one of us.
So, happy birthday to Mr. Richard Starkey of Liverpool 8. Cheers! :-)
Ringo also gained notoriety for his plain, deadpan singing, which allowed him to turn slight songs like "I Wanna Be You Man" into masterpieces and add extra charm to the likes of "Yellow Submarine." And only someone with the whimsical wonder of Ringo Starr could have written a wonderful tune like "Octopus's Garden." But during the sixties,it was understood that a little Ringo went a long way. Wen the Beatles broke up in 1970, the question was obvious; how, how, could Ringo possibly make it as a solo artist?
Very well, actually. Ringo himself asked this question, and he made no secret of his desire for the Beatles to reconcile. preferring to be in a band than on his own. But despite a few bumps - and a long dry spell in the 1980s, when he recorded very little and battled alcoholism - he developed a respectable solo career for himself. His first solo album, Sentimental Journey, was a collection of Tin Pan Alley standards his mother used to sign at the local pub in Liverpool with her friends, and wit ha little help from his friends - each track on Sentimental Journey had a different arranger - he came through with a record noted for its honesty and Ringo's own love for the songs. Always a country and western fan, Ringo followed up with Beaucoups of Blues, an album of original songs supplied by producer Pete Drake, who got a little help from his friends, Nashville songwriters such as Sorells Packard and Chuck Howard. Ringo had already found a nice little sideline as an actor, his lack of pretentiousness making him an enjoyable screen presence. All he had to do was act naturally.
Ringo's biggest successes started with two singles he wrote himself, 1971's "It Don't Come Easy" and 1972's infectious "Back Off Boogaloo," both produced by George Harrison. The straightforward lyrics of the former song and the jokey atmosphere of the latter ("Back Off Boogaloo" was inspired by a saying used liberally by T-Rex frontman Mark Bolan) made both songs huge hits, and when Ringo teamed up with producer Richard Perry to record the albums Ringo (1973) and Goodnight Vienna (1974) he had truly found his voice as a singer and as an entertainer. Unlike the lofty ambitions of his former bandmates in their music - John Lennon's activism, Paul McCartney's symphonic pop, George Harrison's spiritual pursuits - Ringo only wanted to please people and make them smile.
By the late seventies, though, newer, younger acts had taken over the charts, and Ringo was affected by this as much as any other veteran rock and roller. Maybe even more so - Atlantic Records dropped him when his 1977 album Ringo the 4th barely made it onto the charts (at number 199), and he was soon exasperated by the whole record business. In the past twenty years, though, Ringo has re-invigorated himself, reveling in his own showmanship, and quietly putting out new albums that have registered with the small but loyal audience that buys them. With producers such as Mark Hudson and Dave Stewart behind them, some say they may be his best work yet. And he's carried that joy and fun in his All-Starr Band concerts, one of which this blogger saw at an outdoor venue in New Jersey in the summer of 1992. (The remnants of Hurricane Andrew got everyone wet with rain, but no one cared. Everyone was too busy having a good time.)
My mother once said that Ringo is the only "normal" Beatle. By that, she meant that Ringo is the only Beatle who's like the rest of us. He doesn't think he's an Important Artist. He doesn't put on airs. He's never had reason to find himself; he knows who he is. He's probably the only Beatle who could blend in at a British pub singalong or at an American barbecue. He's the Beatle you'd rather have a lager with. Heck, he's the only Beatle who's never been in a drug bust. He's the only Beatle to put out a Christmas album. (Which is ironic - before 1999, when his I Wanna Be Santa Claus album, produced by Mark Hudson, was released, he was the only Beatle who hadn't yet put out a Christmas record; the others had put out singles.) He's always been an ordinary average guy, and his bewilderment at his own success is what's made him so popular and resilient. He is, to be blunt, one of us.
So, happy birthday to Mr. Richard Starkey of Liverpool 8. Cheers! :-)
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